


Give the M9 a flying carpet matthew

by Flavortext



Category: Critical Role
Genre: Kissing in an alley is a good trope man idk what to say for myself, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 20:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18396173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavortext/pseuds/Flavortext
Summary: Fjord and Caleb do a little hiding. Thats all.





	Give the M9 a flying carpet matthew

**Author's Note:**

> Promted by the widofjord discord!

“Fjord,” Caleb says, stopping suddenly as they walk side by side through the market. Fjord wouldn’t have turned instantly, eye just caught by an interesting fruit stand, but a hand comes up to rest on his lower back, catching the seam of his leather armor and tugging with enough urgency to draw his attention. He turns, looks down at Caleb, who has shed his coat finally in the summer heat, the back of his neck slightly pink, despite his efforts to stay in the shade. 

 

Caleb isn’t looking at him, though, instead he is turned halfway towards where they came from. His grip tightens on Fjord. 

“You there!” The crowd parts a little and an armored guard starts making large strides towards them, seemingly already fuming. “You’ve been seen with a blue tiefling! You must come with us!” He pants, and Fjord is about to respond, attempt diplomacy, put the ball back in his court, when a window in a house down the street shatters, and through it _fli_ _es_ two familiar shades of blue, Jester’s whooping laugh reaching them as Beau angles what can only be a flying carpet at a sheer angle upwards, twisting in the air and almost immediately speeding far further than even a well-aimed crossbow bolt could reach. 

“ _Fjord_ “ Caleb grabs Fjord’s bicep, shaking him out if his stunned silence just as the guard breaks into a run towards them. “Get us out of here, _bitte_ ,” Caleb says, and its almost easy, the crowd had already dispersed to the edges of the road around them. Fjord scans the roofline, picks a direction, and pulls Caleb tight to his side with a hand around his waist, and he reaches inside himself.

They disappear with a crack of thunder. 

Fjord wrenches his eyes open in time to realize his slight misjudgment of the angle, and with enough time to instinctually angle their fall so they /slide/ down the roof instead of crashing into and possibly through it. His ankles still wince as he hits the ground, but Caleb clings to his chest and avoids the worst of the landing. Fjord sets him down and lets his falchion disappear with a flick of his wrist, reaching instead with that hand to grab Caleb’s hand. 

“I’m going to kill the girls. Come on, we can beat them to the inn and pack.” Fjord can’t keep the smile out of his voice, this visit to the small town near the capital had been boring, though he’s not sure they can hope to return for a while. But the possibility of a _f_ _lying carpet_  is almost too good to pass up. Caleb turns his hand so they’re palm to palm, and lets Fjord lead them out of the alley and down a different street.

They make it almost to the inn before the guards catch up to them. Fjord turns a corner and then flinches back, seeing a group of them charging down the road the inn they’re staying at is on. Caleb worries his lip. 

“Can we wait them out?” He asks, tugging Fjord back and into a (much smaller, Fjord notes) alley. They’re almost chest to chest, backs pressed between two houses. Fjord breaths deeply and shrugs.

“Can you message Nott or Caduceus from here?” He asks. Caleb digs through his pockets and gestures with a wire in the direction of the in, eyes closing for a moment. 

“They are aware.” He says finally, pocketing the wire again. Fjord can’t help but suck in a breath when Caleb’s knuckles brush his chest. Caleb cocks an eyebrow.

“Is everything okay, Fjord?” He asks, tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear and looking at Fjord with his sharp blue eyes.

“Yup!” Fjord yelps, a little to fast. “Should we move further in?” He asks, trying to cover himself. Caleb nods and the shuffle sideways, which turns out to be only worse for Fjord, as the alley narrows until their knees almost touch. Fjord stops, looking at the strip of street he can see and listening for the clanking of armor. There's some distant chatter but nothing he can decipher. When he turns back to Caleb, he withers a little to find those eyes still fixed on him. 

“Did Jester message you anything more?” Fjord asks, voice cracking a little.

“Nothing past the initial heads up. They might land outside the city, and wait for us.” Caleb says, hands falling to his sides outside his coat pockets. 

“Okay.” Fjord breaths out a little steadier, slumping against the wall as best he can without invading Caleb’s space. Caleb suddenly stiffens, moments before he hears footsteps drawing closer. Caleb draws a hand up, brushes Fjord’s stomach, and holds a finger to his lips. Fjord stares, breath catching. As Caleb holds his eye contact. He jumps in surprise when Caleb’s other hand suddenly intertwines with his at his side.

“Are we running?” Fjord asks, but Caleb hushes him and shakes his head, though he pushes away from the wall and leans in a little. Fjord glances at the road again, hearing more shouts, presumably from the guards. Caleb is pressed against his chest now. 

“Fjord, lean your head down,” Caleb says, mostly into his shoulder. Fjord looks down, at the pink skin dotted with freckles on Caleb’s shoulder. “Just, lean in. Trust me.” He whispers.

Fjord feels like his heart is trying to die on him, but does as he’s told. Caleb smells like books (of course) with a hint of sulfur, magic. Fjord drinks it in. 

“Oi!” A voice shouts. Caleb goes stiff, hand shooting up to cover the side of Fjord’s face. “Oh, apologies, continue!” The voice shouts, heavy footsteps heading immediately away. Caleb holds Fjord there a moment longer before he steps back. 

“There.” He looks a little red but leans comfortably against the wall. If his knee knocks into Fjord’s and stays there, he tries not to pay it too much mind.

“That was smart.” Fjord winces at his voice cracking again. Caleb only smiles. His eyes flick away for a second. Fjord finally notes that they’re still holding hands. He doesn't make a move to pull away. 

“Nott says the coast is clear, we can go.” He says mildly. Fjord deflates a little.

“We could,” he says, feeling the callouses of Caleb’s fingers against his scared palm. Caleb smiles and tightens his grip a little.

“We could,” he says, pushing away from the wall again. “Or,”

 

They meet the party in a clearing outside of town. They do not beat Beau and Jester by a long shot. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments much appreciated!


End file.
